


I am Sam, Sam I am

by cherry3point14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Body Swap, But mainly crack, CRACK CRACK CRACKITY CRACK, CRACKKKKK, Crack, F/M, Say crack one more time, not even a witch this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry3point14/pseuds/cherry3point14
Summary: You and Sam are secretly dating behind Dean’s back. And that’s all fine until one day you see who you think is Sam, alone.(Prompted by @hoeofnjadaka in a comment for my OTHER body swap story. I'm apparently always a slut for body swap).





	I am Sam, Sam I am

You’d just finished killing a pack of werewolves. It’s never an easy task and even with the three of you, it had been an evening full of close calls. You’re surprised none of you are injured beyond some minor cuts and grazes.  
  
But since no one is injured Dean goes into town to pick up some food, read: a woman, and that leaves you and Sam alone.  
  
The lights are low and the beers are cold. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and you’re curled into his body, only a little. It’s just comfortable, that’s all. He’s so long anyway, perfect for you to hide away inside his tall frame while you watch movies. Friends definitely do that. Friends sit this close and breathe deeply enough to taste the smell of him in the back of your throat.  
  
Being attracted to him had been an accident. You’d just always been close, a leaning post for each other. When he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk to Dean you were there. And when you had trouble opening up, or were afraid of losing another friend, he was patient. Over weeks, months and years you’d kind of become each other’s everything.  
  
Or at least, he’d become yours.  
  
There’s nothing remarkable about tonight. There’s no big conversation or argument that sparks action. It's not a straw that breaks the camel's back. It’s the normal quiet you have during movies. Comfortable and calm. The Zodiac Killer, the film from the seventies, is playing on some late night horror channel and Dean isn’t around to tease Sam about his 'serial killer thing'. So, Sam is safe to lean in and tell you facts about the real case. Parts that the movie got wrong and parts that he’s surprised they got right. Every time he does you’re watching his lips, how carefully they sound out his words. He always speaks precisely when he cares about a topic, never wastes a syllable.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
He stops mid-sentence and turns to you more fully. Where before he’d been whispering facts while still looking at the screen now he’s looking right at you. Even in the dark, you can see the intensity of his eyes as the light from the TV continues to flicker in them. He has no idea what you’re going to say, you have no idea what you’re going to say, and yet he’s looking at you with the same concentration he does an important book. As if whatever you might say is gospel.  
  
“Yeah Y/N?”  
  
You don’t know what pushes you except you’re wondering if he’ll kiss you as carefully as he speaks. It’s not the first time you’ve thought it but it is the first time the question has consumed you so completely. It’s a risk. It could ruin your friendship. It could ruin your entire life.  
  
That’s if he rejects you and things become awkward. For some reason tonight confidence outweighs doubt. **_Maybe he’ll kiss you back_** is louder in your head than **_you’re just his friend_**. You slide an arm around his neck, pulling him into you and once you make contact with his skin everything speeds up because there’s no going back now, even if you saw disgust on his face you’d have to go through with it. How would you write this off as anything but trying to smash your face to his?  
  
Then your lips touch and that’s the call to action Sam apparently needed.  
  
In the blink of an eye, he’s kissing you back with a depth you hadn’t expected. There’s nothing slow or patient about this kiss. It’s fast and dirty. It’s bruising and when his tongue swipes over your lips you imagine it’s as much to soothe them as it is to ask for entry. He rolls you both as his tongue slides into your mouth, he has a hand on your hip and he’s leaning on his other arm, the perfect amount of Sam weight pressing you into the bed.  
  
You’re not sure if you kiss him for a second or a lifetime but eventually, he pulls back, keeping his forehead on yours, both of you panting and this smile on his face. It’s wide and happy and utterly heartstopping. You quickly accept that you’ll do anything for this smile as if you wouldn’t have done anything for Sam already.  
  
“So, um, you agree?” You ask with your own grin that you’re sure is breaking your face.  
  
He laughs down at you, “completely.”  
  
And then he’s on you again, kissing the little air you managed to capture straight back out of your lungs.  
  
There’s a scream as the zodiac killer begins to kill a woman. It’s a stark enough contrast against the muddling, quiet dialogue of the film that you break apart like it’s a case. Laughing some more when you realize it isn’t and ultimately breaking apart completely when you hear a key in the door.  
  
Dean had to have been drunk. It’s the only explanation for why he doesn’t see how red and swollen your lips are, or how tousled and messy your hair is. He confirms his state when he falls messily onto the other bed. You’re somewhat frozen in shock, luckily Sam doesn’t miss a beat.  
  
“Dude, where’s the food?” Sam’s voice is convincing enough that even you believe he’s hungry.  
  
Dean waves a hand in the air like he’s batting a fly, “her name was Gina.”  
  
“Considerate of you,” you finally catch up enough to chastise him. Not that it makes a lick of difference considering quiet snores that start coming from the Dean shaped mass on the bed.

* * *

 

 

> _Four Weeks Later_

There’s something nice about having the place to yourself, although you’ll never admit that to Sam and Dean. You may just break their little hearts. There’s a peace in it though. You can cook whatever you want without Dean barking at you to make sure you clean up properly this time. You can read any of the books in the library without Sam reminding you to put it back in the right place.  
  
Wait, were you a nightmare to live with?  
  
Whatever. The boys are gone and life is good. You know Dean is going to find some mess when he gets back, there was an incident with the blender that you’d rather not talk about and you know he’ll sniff out a stray drop you’ve missed like the bloodhound that he is. So, you’ve preemptively baked him an apology pie. It’s only Pillsbury pie crust, you’re not that good a baker, but you made a pretty great apple filling all by yourself, which should earn you some pretty sweet brownie points.  
  
And Sam? Well, he may or may not find some books missing from his room and you may or may not have lost his place in every single one. Although you had some very different ideas on how to make that up to him. Ideas that may require sending Dean away somewhere. Especially since he doesn’t know what you do with his brother at night.  
  
Gun to your head, you probably couldn’t coherently explain why you’re still keeping it a secret. That first night everything had happened so quickly and then Dean came back before you could really talk to each other. The day after you’d both gone on a food run first thing in the morning if only to share a lot of sheepish smiles and blushing cheeks. It was all ten tons of adorable considering all you had to do was close your eyes to be reminded of his weight on top of you.  
  
At first, you agreed to the secrecy because he’s your best friend and if whatever you were doing didn’t work out it would surely be easier to recover in private. At least that sounded reasonable.  
  
Now it’s fairly obvious that you have something. Maybe not wedding bells and Christmas cards but it’s lasting at least. It’s just, well, now the secret thing is freaking hot.  
  
We’re not just talking a quick roleplay and move on with your lives hot. It’s all you can do not to jump him at breakfast. It’s every forbidden relationship you’ve never had rolled into one. And it’s not even forbidden. You’re fairly sure Dean would be happy for you both, you hope anyway. But now the longer you keep it a secret the more _wrong_ it feels.  
  
The time apart has only made it worse.  
  
They’ve only been gone two days. Two days! You’ve taken longer naps. And yet here you are sitting at the map table on your laptop and looking up an excuse for you to leave with Sam immediately upon their return.  
  
Turns out, you needn’t have bothered.  
  
The door to the bunker is heavy and booming so even if you hadn’t have been right there you’d have heard it pretty quickly. However, you are there with a perfect view of the entryway, just as Sam ducks down to come in. The problem occurs when he doesn’t duck his head quite enough and slams his forehead into the thick metal door frame.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” He shouts with a strange inflection at the end. It’s familiar just, not from Sam.  
  
You're distracted by his injury and you jump up from your seat to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, “show me, you big baby.”  
  
Not once does it occur to you that Sam has walked through that door a thousand times without injury. Not when he leans down to show you his slightly red forehead and you ghost your fingers over it, gently feeling for a lump and at the same time running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll live. Where’s Dean?”  
  
“Dean? He jumps back from your touch and creases his brow, apparently shocked and offended by your innocent line of questioning. “He’s, erm, at the library! Yeah, I- I just dropped him off.”  
  
You have a library. It’s quite literally right behind you and has more lore books than the local one. That’s not taking into account that Dean is the one at the library and not Sam.  
  
None of that matters because that’s not what you decide to focus on, “um, are telling me that he’s not here?”  
  
“That’s what I said.”  
  
“We have the place to ourselves?”  
  
“That’s what Dean is at the library means.”  
  
Your voice drops into something akin to the verbal equivalent of velvet and you lean into him, looking up through your lashes. “Then why am I not already naked?”

Before he can react you slide your arms around his neck and bring him crashing you meet your lips. The kiss is different, softer, for all of the second it lasts before Sam has his hands on your shoulders pushing you back. He keeps you at arm's length as he splutters, “Y/N, what the hell?”  
  
“Oh come on, you said yourself you just dropped him off which means we have some time.” You slip past his hands, fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt and lips pressing kisses against the taut skin of his chest as it’s revealed. “Wanna see how many times you can make me...?”  
  
“Woah, woah, woah!” He pushes you back again, shirt half unbuttoned and your ego significantly more bruised than his forehead. “Are you and Sam…?” He raises his brows questioningly and makes a hand motion involving one finger sliding into a circle made with his other hand.  
  
You don’t know what's worse, the rejection or the anxiety suddenly eating at your stomach. “Sam, what’s going on?”  
  
His face pales of color and he scratches the back of his neck while he avoids looking directly into your eyes, “see, funny thing about that. I’m kinda not Sam.”  
  
“What?” The sickly feeling is climbing from your belly to your throat but you still need to hear more words.  
  
“Well, me and Sam kind of switched bodies. Accidently and it was no ones fault so let’s not go pointing fingers at anyone, and he is really at the library, my body anyway…”  
  
“Dean!?” The guilty look on his face is all the confirmation you need. “Oh my god!” You take a step back with a scandalized look on your face as you clutch your shirt to your chest as if it’s your buttons that are half undone.  
  
“Don’t give me that! You’re the one who’s- who’s…” he wags a finger through the air between you and him, or Sam’s body anyway. “You’re the one who jumped me like a damn spider monkey. And since when are you and Sam? You know!”  
  
It’s as clear as day now that this is, very much, not your Sam. In fact, it’s so obviously Dean that you almost want to slap yourself for being so blind.  
  
You’re far more tempted to slap Sam though. Or Dean anyway.  
  
“That is frankly none of your business. Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner? You’re the one who said you dropped Dean off!”  
  
“Technically I did. He’s got my good looks and my ID anyway, that makes him Dean Winchester!”  
  
An epiphany hits you sideways and you finally ask the most obvious question, not knowing it answers everything else, “wait a second, how did you get like this? You weren’t even hunting a witch or anything.”  
  
Suddenly he’s defensive. You’ve finally asked the right question, “we may have been doing a spell to track the pair of vetala and I might have, maybe, got some of the wording wrong. And two of the ingredients. And we might not know exactly how to put ourselves back.”  
  
You rub your forehead in frustration and let out the angriest sigh you can muster. “I guess I better start doing some research.”  
  
You turn on your heel an stomp into the library. Dean calling after you with Sam’s voice, “don’t think we’re not gonna talk about the fact that I can still taste your tongue down my throat!”  
  
“It’s Sam’s throat genius!”

* * *

Sam, in Dean’s body, sits down next to you with a large book in his hands. “I heard someone isn’t talking to Dean.”  
  
“He’s an idiot.” You grumble, not taking your eyes off the page.  
  
“Yeah, but we should probably cut him some slack since we didn’t tell him about us for, like a month.”  
  
Your shoulders roll back involuntarily but still tense. It doesn’t make him any less right, “I get that. But I kissed him! And I tried to- let’s just say I was happy to see you.”  
  
He opens his book not really looking at the page and for the first time, you turn your head to look at him. It’s Sam and you know it is. Not just because he told you so but his facial expressions are still his and he shakes his head like he’s expecting to have more hair. Hell, when you saw him walk over out the corner of your eye he walked across the room like he’s four inches taller.  
  
“You _technically_ kissed me you know.” This time he’s pretending to read and not looking at you.  
  
“It’s unbelievably weird to hear Dean say that you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” he chuckles and it’s a little too Dean, “it’s weird for me too. Did you know he’s got this backache that just doesn’t go away?”  
  
You let out a laugh at that since you know how sensitive Dean is about his age. “Ok, noted. I’m so saving that information for when you two are back in the right bodies.”  
  
“Glad I could help make you smile again,” except as he says it he reaches out for your hand. It’s not unusual since he would sometimes squeeze your hand under the table or when you’re out sight.  
  
But now it’s Dean and even though you know it’s Sam you still recoil from his touch, “no offense but that’s super weird.”  
  
He's in Dean's body and yet he retained those damn puppy dog eyes in the switch. “Dean gets to kiss my girl and she won’t even hold my hand?”  
  
You sigh. He’s right, obviously. It’s a fairly innocuous thing and it’s not like Dean is repulsive, it’s just weird. It’s weird and messy and an extra slice of more weird. “First of all, I didn't know it was Dean when I... anyway how about this? Instead of holding your hand there’s a pie in the kitchen that we can tease him with?”  
  
He allows you to distract him and his face falls with a sudden horrific realization. If you didn’t know any better you might think it was another apocalypse, “do not let him near pie while he's in my body!”


End file.
